


Endeavours

by Raisincookies



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Original Character(s), Single Parent Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisincookies/pseuds/Raisincookies
Summary: Jon Snow suddenly finds himself thrust into the role of fatherhood but nobody's pursuits are ever easy.“Say something,” she pleaded him.He looked down at her, “tell me about her.”She let out a breath of air that she appeared to be holding in anticipating, “Her name’s Lyanna and she’s wonderful.”





	1. Chapter 1

Jon clutched the steaming hot mug of coffee tightly between his hands as he watch the little girl standing forlornly at the edge of the garden.  She was watching the other children playing happily in the snow; their excited squeals ringing out in joy at their made-up game of statue tag – from which you could only be freed if one of the other players were able to hit you with a snowball. 

Jon had watched a couple of the other little girls trying to persuade her to play, he watched as she shook her head, her navy blue bobble hat wobbled precariously.  Eventually, unable to coax her, the other little girls left and went to join in the fun.

Elizabeth Mordane stood next to Jon, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her lips pursed together as she too watched the little girl.

“You’ll need to stop her doing that,” she told him in her no nonsense tone that made Jon feel like he 16 years old and being scolded by his high school math teacher for not completing his homework.

He took a long gulp of his coffee hoping that it would stop him from making an angry retort.  When he first met Elizabeth, less than a week ago, he had been in complete admiration of the woman who had devoted most of her life to caring for kids who suddenly found themselves without a family.  He couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything as selfless as that.  But in the last few days he found himself getting more and more irritated by the woman.

When Jon made no effort to respond to her comment she continued, “Lyanna needs to move past the lost of her mother.  She can’t do that if she isn’t will to participate with her peers.”

Jon rubbed his eye in frustration and bit back a growl of annoyance, “her mother only died a day ago.” He responded tightly, “all things considered, I think that Lyanna is coping pretty well.  I’m really not too concern that she’s not chosen to participate in a game of tag.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond but this time Jon was quicker; he held out the now empty mug, “thanks for the coffee.  I guess I should start packing up the car,” he pulled his face into what he hoped was a friendly smile before busying himself with the meagre pile of belongings heaped haphazardly by the front door.  Packing up the car didn’t take long, the lengthiest part of getting them on the road was trying to organise Lyanna.  He’d never had to wrangle a 4 year old before and he hadn’t really accounted for the length of time it would take for the tiny human to remove her coat, gloves, scarf and boots so that she could go to the bathroom, and then the length of time it would take for her to find the same coat, gloves, scarf and boots and put them all back on again.  It eventually took them half an hour to get out the house, which included a short interlude in the middle so that Lyanna could find Hugo, her garishly coloured stuffed monster with bright orange hair that reminded Jon of his friend Tormund, her juice bottle, her fluffy purple leopard print blanket and a drawing that she did yesterday of a rainbow.

It didn’t take long for her to say her goodbyes to everyone; in fact, she didn’t seem too bothered at all about leaving them and to be completely honest, neither was Jon.  He breathed a slight sigh of relief as he turned his black Range Rover Discovery out onto the main road and watched in the rear-view mirror as Elizabeth Mordane’s house disappeared quickly out of sight.

In his head he knew he probably shouldn’t be so elated about leaving; he was now 100% responsible for the safety and wellbeing of another human being and even now, as he navigated the slush covered roads with said human being settled comfortably in the back seat, he wasn’t entirely convinced he was the right man for the job.  Albeit he was probably the only man for the job.

Ygritte Wilde had been his ex-girlfriend but they’d split up about four and half years ago and they’d not spoken since.  There hadn’t been any animosity, no cheating partner, no explosive rows; it just simply fizzled out until they both mutually decided it was time to go their separate ways. 

They’d met in their mid twenties when they both took jobs as instructors at The WAAL, The Wild Action and Adventure Life.  The WAAL was a centre working with young adults and children to get them away from their video games and to let them experience the joys of camping, canoeing, archery, etc.  They had been around about the same age and naturally had gravitated towards one another right from the start; their mutual love of the outdoors, and whisky, had led to some pretty deep and meaningful campfire conversations and they quickly found themselves becoming an item.

Like Jon, Ygritte had lost both her parents at a young age; she had never known her mother but early years recalled an alcoholic father who’s roll-up cigarette had set fire to their mobile home after he’d drank himself unconscious.  Ygritte had managed to escape through a narrow window opening but her father had perished in the blaze.  After that she was sent to a group home and stayed there until she turned 18. 

Upon hearing her story for the first time Jon recalled his simultaneous feelings of guilt and gratitude which tugged relentlessly at his chest.  He thought that he had been dealt a tough hand when his own mother had passed away following a lengthy and difficult battle with cancer but at least he had people who loved him and cared for him.  His father had died before Jon had even been born but his mother, Lyanne, had been working as a paralegal at Ned Stark’s law firm in Wintertown when she had been diagnosed; the Starks had essentially adopted them both in to the family and even after Lyanne had died Jon had stuck around as an unofficial add on.  Every Christmas and Birthday was celebrated as though he was a fully fledged member of the family and the celebration and cheering that he received from them when he graduated with an Honours Degree in Business with Language was no less than the one which Robb received from them minutes later when he graduated in Business with Finance.

Yet, Jon had taken the loss of his mother hard.  He had tried to shut himself off from everyone and retreat into himself, but the Starks were a persistent bunch.  It was during that dark period when he found his love of the outdoors; there was certain serenity to being outside and away from the whispers and the concerned looks that brought Jon the peace that he needed at that time.  After university he floundered a bit wondering what he should do next, when he mentioned The WAAL opportunity to Ned, Ned had encouraged him to go for it and take the job like a gap year until he figured out what he wanted to do long-term.  It was only when his pseudo gap year became two gap years that Ned decided to step in; he turned up unannounced and sprung Jon from an evening of canteen food to buy him a bar meal at a nearby Inn.

_Jon had been busy shoveling his face full of Cumberland sausage, mashed potato and onion gravy when Ned came right out and asked Jon exactly what his long term plans were._

_Jon stuttered as his ears turned pink, “I don’t really know,” he mumbled._

_Ned sliced through a tender piece of venison with all the pose of a man who knew when his boy wasn’t telling the truth, “Jon, I’m a much better lawyer than you are a liar,” he told him calmly as he popped the gravy soaked meat into his mouth.  “When I encouraged you to take this position at The WAAL we agreed that it was thinking time for what you wanted to do in the future.  It’s been nearly two years,” he sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “so what have you thought of?”_

_Jon trailed his fork through his mash, “it’s not realistic,” he told him quietly.  “It’s a stupid idea really.”_

_“I’ll decide.”_

_Jon clear his throat nervously and gently set his fork down, “well, you see.  There’s all these old traditional ways of making and distilling Northern ales and ciders; they use ingredients all traditionally grown or found in the north.  I thought maybe if I could refine some of these recipes then I could market them.”  He trailed off, “it’s a stupid idea.”_

_Ned was silent for a moment, “do you have any evidence to say that it’s a stupid idea?”_

_Jon looked at Ned in confusion._

_“What I mean is, have you looked at potential set-up costs, suppliers, target market, marketing costs, projected demand or forecast profits?”_

_Jon shook his head._

_“Well, until you have you can’t really say that it’s a stupid idea can you?” Ned carried on eating without waiting on an answer, “you’ve done Business Plans at university, yes?”_

_Jon nodded, “yeah, but for companies that don’t exist.”_

_Ned shrugged, “well, neither does this one to be fair.  Do a Business Plan, do your research and send it to me in eight weeks and we’ll see if you’ve got something to work with or if you need to reassess where you are.  Okay?”_

Jon smiled at the memory and thought about how far he’d come in the last 5 years; it hadn’t been easy, it had been bloody hard work and it was still hard work.  He suspected that that dinner had possibly been the beginning of the end for him and Ygritte; after that night Jon had spend all of his spare time researching and working on his business plan.  In hindsight Ygritte had probably spotted their desire to take different routes in life long before he did.  Jon wanted to use this education, something which he was so proud of, to build something for himself which he could be passionate about whilst Ygritte longed for the next adventure.

Several weeks later Jon had come up with a surprisingly strong business plan which supported his vision for a traditional northern drinks company; Ned had had to curb Jon’s initial enthusiasm for world domination and instead had put forward a counter proposal for Jon to open a small micro-brewery which could potentially be scaled up in the future.  The only slight hiccup was when Ned offered to financially back the start-up and Jon freaked out and slammed the brakes on and point blank refused to accept the money from Ned; that was until Catelyn Stark told Jon in no uncertain terms that he would be accepting the money because the company would be a success.  Jon had stuttered, but if there was one person in this world that could scare Jon Snow it was Catelyn Stark; and so a deal was done.

He had returned to The WAAL elated and Ygritte had been delighted for him, she had also taken that moment to let him know that she would also be moving on and that she’d accepted another job further north than The WAAL.  She had been giddy with excitement when she told him that she was going to be instructor for ice climbing and arctic survival in the town of Hardhome in the very north.  They both knew right then and there that the relationship was over but they were both moving on to new and exciting things so there was nothing to really get sad about.  They accepted it and were happy for each other.

“Jon?” a little voice from the back seat of his car ripped him from his memories.  He looked back at Lyanna’s reflection in the rear-view mirror and smiled gently.

“Yes, sweetling?  Are you okay back there?”

She was looking thoughtfully out of the side window as she watched the snowy countryside whizz past, “where are we going?”

Jon sighed internally; this wasn’t the first time that they’d had this discussion and he wasn’t sure if he should be worrying about the frequency that they kept having it at.

“Do you remember yesterday,” and the day before that, he added silently, “when we talked about going to live at our new house?”

“With your puppy?” she asked.

Jon smiled, “yes, with my dog.”

“Ghost?”

Jon nodded, “yep,” and then he waited for the question that would surely come next.  Lyanna didn’t disappoint.

“Will my Mummy be there?” she asked hopefully.

Jon’s heart broke; he wasn’t sure how many more times he could break Lyanna’s heart by giving her his devastating response.

“No, love,” he replied softly.  “Remember when I told you about the northern gods?”

Lyanna threaded her fingers through the soft orange fur of her stuffed monster, “Mummy went to live with them?”

“That’s right, love.”  Jon wasn’t entirely sure if Ygritte had believed in the old northern gods but he’d deduced that this was a much safer story to tell a four year old than the real truth.  That her mother had been burnt on a pyre on Tuesday and her ashes scattered from an ice cliff as per her last request as she lay dying in a hospital bed hooked up to beeping machines and drips.

She had looked so gaunt and pale as she lay in the sterile white of the hospital room.  His phone had rung at 3 AM and, despite not having spoken to his ex in over 4 years he had jumped in the car and driven at breakneck speed to get to her bedside.  She was in heart failure; she had collapsed only hours beforehand and her condition had been discovered only after her admittance to hospital.  It was too late to do anything, a donor was unlikely to come fast enough.

He clasped her hand and thought about how terribly out of placed she was in this cold clinical box they had placed her in.  He felt a gentle squeeze of his fingers and when he looked up he realised that she was awake and her blue-grey eyes were staring up at him.

“You came,” her northern brogue stirred memories that he’d long since forgotten and he smiled teasingly.

“You always could make me come,” he bantered.

Ygritte let out a laugh and just like that it was as though the last 5 years never happened.

“What were you thinking about?”

Jon shrugged, “I was thinking that this room isn’t really you.”

She smiled, her eyes watering.  “What is me?” she asked softly.

“Under the stars,” he replied simply.  “A whole sea of stars.  Dancing on the moss like a nymph.  A burning campfire casting shadows on your face.”

“Swimming naked in a hot spring?”

“Drinking all my whisky.” He retorted playfully.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he meant it.  Death was not designed for someone like Ygritte, someone so full of life and adventure.  The start to her life had been so shitty; so many others would’ve wasted away to nothing but not Ygritte.  She had fought and she had forged her way through disappointment and rejection and she had come bursting through the other side with so much promise that Jon could only deduce that this was someone’s cruel idea of a joke.

She shook her head, “don’t.  Don’t say you’re sorry.  Not yet anyway.”

He looked at her in confusion

“I have to tell you something,” she whispered shakily, “something important.”

Jon listened.  His mind spun as he fought to just listen to the dying words of the woman before him.  He listened as Ygritte told him about how she discovered her pregnancy only after she left for Hardhome and Jon returned to Wintertown to start his business.  He listened as she told him that she never intended to keep it from him but it seemed that the further along she got the more difficult it was to tell him.  He listened to her ramblings, her pleas, her apologies, her statements of what she should have done as tears of remorse spilled down the soft pale curves of her cheeks.

He didn’t know how he was meant to react.  Should he be angry and say mean words to the woman who kept his child from him?  Should he swear?  Should he storm out?  Should he act indifferent?  He had no clue.

“Say something,” she pleaded him.

He looked down at her, “tell me about her.”

Ygritte let out a breath of air that she appeared to be holding in anticipating, “Her name’s Lyanna and she’s wonderful.” She told him with a sad smile.

Jon breath caught in his throat, Lyanna; named after his own sweet mother.

“She’s every good thing that you could possibly imagine all wrapped up in one tiny person.”  She let out a sob, “isn’t that amazing?  Every good thing and you can wrap your arms around and you have everything that’s good in this world fit into them.”

Jon nodded as tears clouded his eyes, “that’s pretty fucking amazing.”

“Don’t let her grow up like I did,” she begged.

Jon shook his head; he knew what she was referring to.  “Never,” he told her tightly, “she will be loved and I will tell her every day about you, about what an amazing woman she came from.”

“Don’t tell her about the hot spring.  No kid wants to hear that.” She joked.

Jon crocked out a watery laugh.

Lyanna, at that point, had been place into emergency care until the lawyers sorted the paperwork; Ned having expedited it and informed everyone that this was now their number one priority – for which Jon would always be eternally grateful.

Ygritte had been right, Lyanna was amazing.  Jon had stared at her in nervous awe the first time that he’d met her at Elizabeth’s house; she was the frightening combination of both him and Ygritte.  Her hair was a glorious dark red which framed her cherubic face, rosy cheeks and ruby lips.  Her doe like eyes blue-grey just like her mothers and framed with thick dark lashes she could’ve only inherited from Jon.

The first day he went to see her they’d played jigsaws on the floor of the playroom; she couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face when they reached the end only to discover the last bit was missing.

“My mummy always makes me put all the pieces back in the box once I’m finished,” she told him in a low, conspiring whisper as though she didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “So I don’t lose bits.”

“My mum used to make me do that too,” Jon told her.

“Does she still make you put all the bits away?” she asked innocently.

Jon chuckled and shook his head, “not anymore.”

“Because you’re a grown up?”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck, “well,” he paused to help put away some of the now broken up pieces of the puzzle, “my mum died.”

“Oh,” Lyanna placed the lid carefully on the puzzle and sat kneeling in front of Jon.  “I use to have a hamster called Benji, he died too.  Do you think Benji knows your mum?”

Despite the horrendous stress of the last 24 hours Jon couldn’t do anything to stop a small smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe,” he responded thoughtfully.  “Maybe my mum and Benji are playing together somewhere; Benji in his wheel and my mum playing the piano, and they’re really happy.  What do you think?”

Lyanna nodded, “Benji loved his wheel.  My mummy didn’t like his wheel very much though.”

“No?”

Lyanna shook her head and leaned over again, “she said, his wheel makes a right fucking racket.”

Jon snorted with laughter before quickly trying to collect himself, “I’m not sure your mummy would like you using that word, Lyanna.”

“Yeah, she told me not to.  But she says it when she thinks I’m not listening.”

“Ah, well.  Mummy’s are always listening, they’re got supersonic hearing.”

Catelyn phoned him that evening and offered to drive up and be with him.  He thanked her profusely but ultimately declined as he honestly didn’t know how long he would be here for; it could be days or it could be weeks.

The next day when Jon went to see Lyanna he took her to the park.  It was frigid cold outside but they wrapped up warm and spent a good hour playing on the swings and the monkey bars until tiredness took over.  On the way back to Mrs Mordane’s Lyanna confided that she didn’t like it there and she wanted to go back home to mummy.

Jon squatted down in front of the little girl and pulled her scarf tighter to try and block out the biting chill from her delicate skin.

“I know, love.  But you know mummy isn’t very well, don’t you?”

She nodded with a pout, “when will she get better?” she asked curiously.

Jon looked at the ground and wished for a second that he was anywhere but here, “honestly, sweetling.  I’m not sure if she will get better.  The doctors are trying to do everything they can, but your mummy is really sick.”

Lyanna’s lip quivered, “was your mummy sick too before she died?”

Jon nodded, “yeah.  She was sick for really long time.”

She toed the snow with her boot, “I don’t like Mrs Mordane,” she mumbled.

“Why not, honey?”

“She doesn’t let me sleep with Hugo and she made me eat hotdogs even though I told her that I didn’t like them.”

Jon looked confused, “who’s Hugo?”

“He’s my friendly monster; he sleeps in my bed at night to scare off the bad monsters.  But Mrs Mordane told me that I’m not allowed toys at bedtime.”

Jon frowned, who the hell doesn’t let a kid take their favourite stuffed animal to bed at night? Christ, he took his stuffed dragon to bed right up until the ripe old age of eleven.  He did think the hotdog situation was a bit weird though, who doesn’t like hotdogs?

Jon stood up and continued their way back to the house, this time Lyanna slipped her tiny hand into Jon’s much bigger one as they went.

When they arrived back Jon spoke quietly to Mrs Mordane to see if she could possibly make an exception for Hugo, the friendly monster.  The short answer was no, the long answer was the 10 minute lecture that the woman proceeded to give him on the merits of having no distractions at bedtime; and that, quite frankly, was the start of the demise of any budding friendship.

Ygritte died two days later; she slipped away peacefully in her sleep.  Her friends did most of the other running around, making arrangement for her funeral and packing up her life into boxes ready to be shipped to Wintertown.  They had visited Lyanna and taken her to see her mother at the hospital before her passing.  It was weird time; everyone just went through the motions and reminded Jon horribly of when his own mum was dying.

The hospital had rang Jon to let him know, they also contacted Lyanna’s Social Work Case Worker to let her know; and she in turn called Elizabeth Mordane who took it upon herself to let Lyanna know that her mother was dead.

The second Jon walked through the door he knew something was wrong; Elizabeth Mordane proclaimed it was a temper tantrum whilst Jon, through gritted teeth, informed her that this was a child simply trying to cope with the loss of her mother.  He entered the playroom with trepidation, only to find his subdued daughter curled into a ball on the floor.  Her face lay half in a puddle of her own vomit, no doubt brought on by her hysterically crying which was evident on her face.  Her hair was slick with sweat and stuck to her face and neck in thick moist strands.

He bit back his rage that she had been left like this, to sit in her own sweat and vomit.  The last thing that Lyanna needed was for him to start an argument preaching good child when he, admittedly, knew next to nothing about the subject matter.  His focused needed to be on the tiny wreck of a child before him.  Her mother was gone and she had nobody else.  He knelt down next to her and as tenderly as he could he stroked the wisps of auburn hair from her blotchy face.

“Hey, baby.  I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her softly.  She focused her eyes on him and blinked.

“My mummy,” she hiccupped.

“I know, baby.  I’m so, so sorry.”  He gently slid his hands under her arms and scooped her up, “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He bathed her and dressed and she allowed him to do so passively.  He wrapped her up in the warmest clothes he could find, grabbed Hugo, then informed Elizabeth Mordane that they would be going out and they wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day.

They were having hot chocolate when Jon’s mobile phone rang; it was Ned informing him that the papers had all come through but wouldn’t officially be signed off by the courts until the following day.  This meant that Lyanna would be staying at least another night at Mordanes; he didn’t necessarily like the thought of taking her back there, he didn’t think it was the right environment for her to be in.  Lyanna needed love, attention and affecting; something which she was unlikely to receive from home with seven other kids all clambering for the same.

He called Ned that night after he dropped Lyanna off.

“Jon?” he asked, his voice was low and gruff.

“Yeah.”

“Cat and I have been talking and,” he paused, “Lyanna will be coming to live with you, yes?  You’re not planning on staying in Hardhome?”

He sighed, “Do you think I’m being selfish?  Uprooting her so quickly after Ygritte’s death?”

The truth of the matter was that Jon just couldn’t see himself living in Hardhome but he had tried to consider it rather than just write it off completely. He had worked damn hard to get his business up and running; relocating would mean starting over and he couldn’t imagine how difficult the process would be whilst simultaneously trying to raise a child.  His next point had been that it meant leaving behind all his family and friends; he needed Lyanna to have a family around her encasing anything were to happen to him.  She needed a network of people around her who would love and care for her and it would be near impossible for those relationships to flourish if they were constantly a six hour drive away.

“I don’t think you know how to be selfish, Jon.” Ned responded.  “I think you’ve probably already considered your options; but your flat,” he started.

Jon could tell he was struggling to be diplomatic with his words.  He knew what was coming; his flat wasn’t really suitable anymore.  It was a one bedroom which was fine for him, but Lyanna would definitely need her own room.  It was also pretty small; once he had added in all of Lyanna’s toys and creature comforts they would likely be bursting at the seams.  There was also Ghost to consider, he wasn’t exactly a Chihuahua; he was a big lumbering beast of dog.  Finally there was the location, situated right on top of Jon’s micro brewery, The White Wolf, it was open to patrons until 1AM most nights and the only garden to speak of was the beer garden.  There was really nothing child friendly about his flat.

“It’s not really child friendly, Jon.” He finished.

“I know,” he agreed quietly.

“So Cat and I were talking and we think that you should move into the Stables.”  He rushed on before Jon had the chance to interrupt and disagree, “it’s plenty big enough for all of you plus we’re all right across the courtyard if you ever needed anything and think of all that outdoors space for running around in.  Cat thinks we should get a swing set.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably; he didn’t think he’d ever get use to the generosity of the Starks and it always made him feel awkward accepting it when he knew he’d never ever be able to fully repay them for everything they did.  But it wasn’t just his pride at stake here; he was more than happy to live in tiny hole-in-wall over a pub when it was just him but his daughter, Lyanna, she deserved better than that.  She deserved a family and a quiet place to live and bloody swing set in the sodding garden.  So he swallowed his pride, and he bit the bullet.

“Thanks, Ned.  I’d really appreciate it.”  He heard a muffled cry of victory from Cat somewhere in the background.

“You’re welcome.”

It was probably the longest night of his life, made worse by Ygritte’s funeral which was being held at dawn that morning.  It had been a beautiful service, exactly what she had wanted, and as the sun rose higher in the morning sky it bled vibrant shades of red, orange and purple over the icy land around them.  Jon had decided that Lyanna was too young to attend; whilst he understood the symbolism behind being burned in the earth then scattered over ice by the wind he wasn’t sure Lyanna was old enough to understand her mother’s deep connection with nature and ultimately he worried that the whole thing would traumatize her further.  He called Catelyn for advice and she agreed wholehearted with his decision to keep her away; she suggested their own private remembrance once things had settled a bit.

The phone call from Ned came shortly after the service; the papers had been signed and filed, he was free to collected Lyanna and come home.

The car journey home took far longer than expected; he wasn’t use to travelling with kids and hadn’t factored in the number of times they’d need to stop for toilet breaks or the length of time it would take to eat lunch.  Jon had calculated that they’d arrive at Winterfell just in time for dinner but after all the diversions and, for the first time in his life, watching his speed it was more like 9 PM before they made it through the doors of the Stables; three hours ago he had eventually admitted defeat and they’d stopped for dinner.

Lyanna was already out for the count and snoring softly in Jon’s arms as he carried her through the house and settled her into bed in the room next to the master suite.  He slipped Hugo under her arm and tucked the blankets up tightly around her before kissing her gently on the forehead.  He might only have known her for a few days but already his heart was bursting at the sight of her.

Catelyn had clearly prepared well for their arrival; the heating had been turned up to some kind of Dothraki Sea level setting, the beds had freshly been made up and smelt of some kind of flowery fabric conditioner and new sets of pyjamas had been laid out for each of them; that said, he wasn’t about to try and wrestle a sleeping child into them.  Don’t poke the bear.  The fridge, freezer and the cupboards had been well stocked and for a moment Jon wondered if he should be expecting company; there was enough to feed an army.

But by far the best bit was the additional of Ghost who had clearly already made himself at home and was snoozing peacefully on sofa, Jon slumped down next to him and scratched behind his ears; it woke him from his slumber but for a good ear scratch all would be forgiven and Ghost let out an appreciative grumble.

“You’re a rotten guard dog, mate.” Jon informed him.  “But you’re going to need to pull your socks up; you’ve got a job to do now.”

Ghost froze and stuck his snout in the air; he flopped lazily from the sofa and padded across the room to the hallway until he had a pretty decent view into the bedroom where Lyanna now slept.  He cocked his head to the side and raised one ear as if ask, “Who dis?”

He turned his head and looked at Jon, “that’s our girl, Ghost.  You’re going to help me look after her and set a good example; that means no more humping Robb’s leg when he comes over.”

Ghost let out a whine and padded another couple of feet before collapsing ungracefully in the doorway to the bedroom.

Jon nodded in tired approval, “good boy, you can take first shift.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lyanna sat up in bed in a room that she wasn’t familiar with.  It wasn’t her normal bed, the one at her and mummy’s house with the creaky springs and the bobbled sheets; neither was it the hard bed at Mrs Mordane’s house with the plastic cover that crinkled when she moved and made her skin sweat under the stark white sheets and itchy blanket.

She tugged Hugo out of the tangled duvet and hugged him to her chest, burrowing her face into his soft fur.  Sunlight was streaming through a gap in the forget-me-not blue curtains making a squinty rectangle of light on the floorboards.  The room was pretty barren, two single beds pushed to opposite sides of the room, an empty chest of drawers and an old wooden rocking chair which had been sanded and painted the same shade of pale blue to match the curtains. Her coat had been draped across one of the arms of the chair and her boots pushed neatly underneath it.

She was at Jon’s house, she decided.

She liked Jon, he was nice.  He had played jigsaws with her the first she met him and helped her climb the monkey bars at the park; he’d helped her cheat on the monkey bars, she’d never been able to hold on for very long and the wool of her gloves always made her hands slip but Jon had held her up and they’d both pretended that she’d done it by herself.

He’d told her the truth about her mummy, he told her that she was sick and that he wasn’t sure that she’d ever get better.  Mrs Mordane told her that her mummy was dying and that Lyanna needed to be a big girl; Val, mummy’s friend, told her that her mummy would be fine and not to worry.

She rolled over onto her tummy and slide down from the bed; she followed the plush taupe carpeted hallway and quickly found Jon leaning over the worktop in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee and playing on his phone.

He greeted her with a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and he quickly set his phone down, “good morning, love.  Did you and Hugo have a nice sleep?”

He watched her as she toyed shyly with the thick thatch of orange hair on Hugo head, curling it tightly around her fingers.  Her own hair was in just as much disarray as her auburn curls stuck comically out from her head.  Her grey woollen dress with the sequin unicorn was rumbled and creased from whatever odd angle she’d slept in during the night.

Lyanna nodded her head.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she informed him; her voice still groggy with sleep.

Jon knew from yesterday’s epic road trip that Lyanna was quite capable of going herself; he knew because she’d told him so, rather forcefully actually.  Informing him that she wasn’t a baby, 10 seconds after he had to help her zip up her coat which was, “ _too complicated_ ”.

“You know where it is?  It’s right across the hallway from your bedroom.”

Lyanna dropped Hugo where she stood and toddled off in search of the bathroom.  Jon was rummaging around in the pantry when she returned; he knocked away a package of porridge oat scowling at them in disgust.  He’d put those out for the birds, there was no way that he was going to be eating that sludge for breakfast.

Then he spotted the holy grail of breakfast cereals, a bright yellow box of Coco Pops that Catelyn must have stashed away in the back; he hadn’t had Coco Pops in years, and even then it had only been a once in a while treat which was usually finished in one sitting when the rest of the Stark children were involved.

“Lyanna, what would you like for breakfast?  We’ve got Coco Pops.”

Her sweet cherubic face broke out into a toothy grin and she nodded.

“Yeah?  And some orange juice?”

“Yes please.”

She clambered up on to one of the heavy oak chairs which sat around the dining room table, it screeched manically on the rough slate of the floor as she wiggled enough room for her to fit and watched attentively as he fixed their breakfast.

The house that Ned and Catelyn had set them up was damn nice; a lot nicer than his own actual flat. The Starks had grown up on an estate a few miles outside of Wintertown called Winterfell; the estate had been in the Stark family for generations but by the time Ned had inherited it from his late father the house and its grounds had fallen into a state of disrepair.  Not that it had been ramshackle by any means, it was just that things were starting to need upgraded but at that time Catelyn was running around trying to raise five kids and Ned was working hard to set up his law practice.  It had only been a few years ago that they had eventually decided to convert the estates many outbuildings into holiday cottages for letting.  However the plan to rent them had never actually come to fruition.

The home set aside for Jon and Lyanna had historically been the old stable building but had been so beautifully transformed that its former use was barely recognisable.  The living room, dining room and kitchen were all open plan with the entire front wall of the building, where the stable doors once stood, now a concertina glass door which could be opened giving direct access to the main courtyard.  Despite the gigantic window the house didn’t feel in the least bit cold or un-homely.  Catelyn had outdone herself with her interior design skills; she had pieced together locally sourced slate, stone and wood and brought it together to somehow create a modern country cottage feel.

At the moment it still had that holiday home feel to it; all of Jon’s belonging were still at his place, the only stuff he had was the few items which he’d thrown into the car when he’d left for Hardhome and the stuff that he’d bought whilst up there out of necessity.  Lyanna currently wasn’t any better off; most of her stuff was still in transit save for the couple of bags of things which had found their way to Mrs Mordane’s.  Hopefully she would have a couple of toys to see her through the next few days until the boxes from Ygritte’s house arrived.  Failing that, they could always raid the games cupboard from Ned and Catelyn’s; he would just have to hope there were still enough balls in the Hungry Hippos box to make the game worthwhile.

“Jon?” Lyanna voice broke him from his thoughts, “do we have to go in your car again today?”

Jon could tell by the tone of her voice and the little crease in her forehead that she wasn’t exactly enamoured by the thought.  They had spent too many hours in the car yesterday and she must have been bored senseless.

“Nope,” he said with a small smile as he placed a bowl of cereal and a spoon in front of her.  “I was thinking that we might have a lazy day here instead?  What do you think?”

Lyanna nodded in agreement as she picked up her spoon and dipped it into the bowl, attempting to push all the little puffs of chocolate rice under the surface of the milk.

Jon shovelled a heaped spoonful of cereal into his mouth; he was done eating a few minutes later but he sat patiently and drank his coffee as Lyanna ate.  It unnerved him how much he wanted to help her; she held her spoon at an awkward angle which meant that the majority of the time there was barely any cereal left on it by the time it got to her mouth.  Several times the chocolaty milk would wind up dribbling down her chin which she would wipe away, with little concern, using her sleeve.  Jon wondered if Catelyn had bought washing powder for them; the Fairy non-bio one that the advert said was kind for delicate skin.  He made a mental note to check.

He heard the familiar scrabbling of dog toenails on the floor; he had left the back door from the utility room open earlier that morning so that Ghost could go do the necessary and also to explore his new back garden digs.  He turned to acknowledge him as he made his way across the kitchen.

“You finished marking your territory, son?”

Ghost’s tail wagged happily at the sound of Jon’s voice and he made a beeline for his master; he readjusted his direction the second he caught sight of Lyanna.  At that point his tail wagging went into overdrive and he practically trotted like a bloody show pony over to her.

Lyanna’s eyes went wide as saucers.

“That’s your puppy, Jon?”  Her voice squeaked.

Jon caught her trepidation; he knew that Ghost was a big dog but to someone a third of the size of him Ghost must have looked like a bear.  He quickly knelt beside Lyanna’s chair, blocking Ghost’s direct access to her; by now Ghost was practically panting in delirium and his whole backside was wagging back and forth, not just his tail, as he pranced excitedly on his paws.

“Sit, Ghost.” He ordered.

Ghosts back end collapsed beneath him.

He turned and smiled brightly at Lyanna trying to show her that he was completely at ease with his hulking canine companion.

“Yep, this is Ghost.”

“He’s big.” Lyanna declared looking at him in awe.

“He is big,” Jon agreed, “but he’s an even bigger softy; aren’t you, boy?” he asked as he rubbed under Ghosts chin.

“Would you like to pet him?” he asked.

Lyanna, with zero hesitation, nodded and slide down from the chair; she rounded on Jon and stood between his legs, her sticky milk covered hand clutched the sleeve of his grey woollen sweater for balance as she leant over and gently patted the soft white fur of Ghosts chest.

Ghost panted as he patiently allowed his new small human to drag her fingers delicately through his coat; eventually he grew bored of this one-sided affection and dragged his slobbering, wet, pink tongue all the way up her face and into her hair.

She let out a squeal of delight and jumped back against Jon.

“He licked me,” she informed him with a giggle, a noise which Jon was entirely unfamiliar with having never heard that sound come from the little girl in the entire time he had known her; and it was beautiful.

He smiled, “that just means he likes you.  If you scratch behind his ears, you’ll be his best friend for life.”

They sat like that on the floor for a while; Lyanna besotted by Ghost and Jon besotted by Lyanna.  Eventually Ghost, clearly exhausted from 4-year-old infatuation, curled up for a well deserved nap as Jon managed to persuade Lyanna into the bath.  She asked him where the toys were and Jon, at a loss, managed to find some plastic picnic cups in the kitchen which seemed to placate her as she splashed around in the tub.

 

* * *

 

Later on he collapsed onto the sofa, he had spent the best part of an hour getting their meagre belongings unpacked from the car and put away in their respective rooms.  He had almost bitten his nails down to the quick wondering if it was bad parenting to leave a child unattended whilst he walked the three meters from the house to the boot of his car.  He over agonised the situation for about an hour until he eventually thought, sod it, and tackled the job like some kind of Olympic relay.  Lyanna lay on the rug by the crackling wood fire drawing brightly coloured pictures from a colouring set which Jon had found in one of her bags.  He looked down at the crumpled piece of green sugar paper; she was working diligently on a crooked oblong using a silver crayon.

He made an impressed humming noise, “I like your picture, Lyanna.  Maybe we could hang it up on the wall when you’ve finished it?”

“It’s a picture of Ghost,” she told him without looking up.  “I’m going to show it to mummy when I get home so that she knows what he looks like when I tell her about him.”

Jon withered and held his breath for what felt like a minute as he fought to find the right words. He had just been metaphorically punched in the gut and it hurt like fuck.

He heard a whine coming from the floor as Lyanna rose to her knees on the floor beneath him.  Her little face had turned scarlet and crumpled in distress; she look up at him as her eyes watered over in unshed tears of despair.

“I forgot,” she wailed.

He leant forward; concern etched on his face as he held his arms out to her and scooped her off the floor.

“You’re all right, my love.” He told her softly as he wrapped her up tightly in the strength of his arms.

“My mummy,” she cried; the last intelligible thing before the wailing and sobbing shook her tiny frame.

Never before had Jon felt so utterly helpless and clueless; there was literally nothing which he could do or say which would make this any better for her.  He could never replace the one thing that Lyanna needed and wanted; Ygritte.

So he held her and rocked her, because it was the only thing he had.  He held her until her sobs diminished to an occasional snottery sniffle, until her head grew sweaty against his chest, and his sleeve was moist with tears because he didn’t have the foresight to put a box of tissues handy.

For a long time she was quiet.  Eventually she looked up at him, half of her face obscured as she pressed it to his sweater; her thick long lashed were wet and clumped together with her tears.

“Mummy used to call me Anna,” she told him hoarsely.  “She only called me Lyanna when she was cross with me.”

He used his fingers to comb the hair from her mottled cheeks; “shall I call you Anna then?  So that you know that I’m not cross with you?”

She said nothing as she looked into his eyes, then she gave him the briefest of nods.

She dosed off for a while after that, clearly worn out, so he laid her down on the armchair for a nap and covered her up with her purple travel blanket so that she would be nice and cosy.  He buried his face in his hands and wondered for the millionth time what the hell he was doing.  Part of him longed to curl up next to her and sleep until he knew what he was doing; about a hundred year ought to do it. 

Instead he dragged himself from Anna’s side and grabbed his phone and his laptop; for all he knew his bar could have burnt down to the ground.  As it transpired his bar hadn’t burnt down to the ground, it was in fact fine.  Jon wasn’t sure if he should be a little disappointed that Tormund and Sam appeared to coping perfectly fine without him; maybe some part of him actually wanted a bar related crisis to happen because at least he knew that he could fix that.  At least there would be a logical answer to that.

A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye and he looked up to find Arya Stark pressing herself comically against the window.  She was smooshing her face in the most unattractive way and her breath was fogging the glass with condensation.

Jon snorted in spite of himself.

“Fucking idiot,” her muttered as he got up to let her in.

He unbolted the door and held it open as Arya waltzed past him poking him the gut as she went.  Jon winced and narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve been replaced,” he informed her quietly.  “I have another short person in my life now.  Too many of you and I start to feel like Gulliver.”

“Shut your face,” Arya whispered.  “I’m not above kneeing you in the nuts.”

Jon pretended to look shocked, “is that really the way you should be talking to your favourite customer?”

“Blow me.” She mouthed as she flipped him off.

She glanced around, “where’s your tiny sidekick?”

He nodded his head towards the sofa, “asleep on the couch.  We had an incident so she’s taking a little nap.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Anna, she kind of…forgot.” He paused, “that her mum died.”

Arya’s face crumpled in sympathy.

“It’s a lot for her,” he defended.  “She’s dealing with a lot.”

Arya nodded, “I know.”

For all her sharp corners and inability to sugar coat, Arya really did have a softer side; not that she let it show too often.  This apparently was one of those infrequent occasions.

Arya had been the first of her siblings to claim one of the Winterfell conversions; The Old Blacksmiths.  Whilst Jon had been off working at the WAAL Arya had left home to work and train under Braavos’ only Michelin Star chef, Syrio Forel.  When she’d returned home for a visit shortly after Jon had first opened The White Wolf Arya had spent the whole trip grilled him incessantly on his business until Jon’s head was practically spinning.  As it turned out Arya had a business proposal of her own up her sleeve.  She intended to restore the Winterfell estate to its former glory; her plan had been to open a farm store selling produce that would be hunted, fished or grown organically on the estate.  She would use her training under Syrio Forel to also produce her own locally cured meats, cheeses and pies.

Ned had been impressed by Ayra’s plans and had taken the time to seriously consider what she was proposing.  The difficulty with Arya was that when it came to the business side of things she just didn’t have the head for it.  Her true passion came from hunting the land and growing things to be harvested which she could later use in her next culinary creation.  Nobody had quite predicted how successful the business would become and how quickly.  Jon’s entire pub menu at The White Wolf was now sourced directly from Winterfell Fine Foods; initially it had been a trial to give exposure to the business but it quickly became a staple and Jon had even hired a chef, Sam, to continue developing the gastro menu.  Catelyn had also stepped in to manage the books in an effort to allow Arya to concentrate on the day to day running of things.

“You know she’ll be okay?  Right?” Arya asked.  “I mean, not today or tomorrow; but eventually she’ll be okay.”

Jon tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Will she?”

“Hey,” Arya reached out and squeezed his forearm comfortingly, “you’re the only one that actually knows what she’s going through.  I get that you feel out of your depth but I know you, and I know that you’ll do the right thing by Lyanna.”

Jon paused, shaking his head.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted

“Nobody does.  Being in adult is just learning how to Google stuff, Jon.  Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

 

* * *

 

The Old Barn

 

 

 


End file.
